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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29489580">To fall is to learn how to fly</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ididloveyou_once/pseuds/Ididloveyou_once'>Ididloveyou_once</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Titans (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Big Brother Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Bonding, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dick Grayson, Team as Family, Teen Titans as Family</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:00:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,779</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29489580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ididloveyou_once/pseuds/Ididloveyou_once</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dick left Gotham he’d felt lost.</p><p>He wouldn’t let them feel lost.</p><p>Or: Dick’s interactions with each of the Titans and what they teach him about his team (or, more accurately, his family).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Jason Todd, Dick Grayson &amp; Raven, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To fall is to learn how to fly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a clear night. Beautiful, actually. Dick could see the stars from the tower window and, in the darkness between them, his own reflection staring back at him.</p><p>It was quite the feat, he mused. To see the night sky so clearly was a rarity with the miserable winter they were having and the general smog that clung to everything (and everyone). He could see it below him. A dark grey shadow that settled just above the streetlamps like a blanket. Still, it was lower than usual and Dick savoured it. He’d always liked the stars.</p><p>‘Did you think I’d forget?’ her voice ricocheted in the empty room like a bullet. </p><p>A small smile played at the corners of his mouth and his hand twitched, ‘a man can hope.’  </p><p>He turned to face Donna, taking in the way she grinned at him as if she’d been waiting all day to do it. He couldn’t help but return it, his own face lit up by her brightness. Her happiness had always been infectious, being around her softness was like being drunk. Speaking of, his eyes fell to the bottle in her hands-</p><p>‘For me?’ he asked cheekily.</p><p>‘Who else?’</p><p>‘And I thought I was supposed to be the bad influence?’ he teased.</p><p>Donna rolled her eyes and before he could stop her she’d forced a glass into his hand. </p><p>‘This is good stuff,’ she insisted as she filled his glass followed by her own. </p><p>‘<em>Better </em>than fifteen-dollar whiskey from a Gotham convenience store?’ he raised his eyebrows, impressed. </p><p>‘<em>Much </em> better,’ she paused before amending, ‘not quite as good as the stuff in Bruce’s whiskey cabinet.’</p><p>He took a sip and hummed in appreciation, ‘I don’t know, I’d say it’s better. It’s hard to enjoy something when you’re paralysed with fear.’</p><p>‘It was worth it though.’</p><p>‘Donna, I thought I was going to wet myself. I was so certain he was going to find out that I didn’t sleep for weeks.’ </p><p>He couldn’t help but grin at the sound of her laughter. It filled the room like a song and he wanted to bask in it or capture it for himself. A ribbon of gold on a dull day. Dick turned back to the sky, drinking deeply from his glass. Slowly Donna’s laughter became a weak giggle and then silence. </p><p>Her arm brushed his as she joined him at the window. In the silence, Dick could hear the cars on the streets below them. If he listened close enough, he could hear Donna’s gentle breathing and the melodic hum of her finger as it traced the rim of her glass. </p><p>‘It’s a nice evening,’ Donna broke the silence, her voice soft.</p><p>‘Mm, perhaps it’s my gift?’ he joked.</p><p>She snorted, ‘<em>yes. </em> The elements <em>bend </em> to your will, Boy Wonder.’</p><p>He smiled widely at that, genuinely. His own reflection suddenly unrecognisable as someone bright and untroubled stared back at him. They stood like that for a while. Until the street lamps died out and their glasses were empty.</p><p>The stars were blurring under Dick’s gaze when Donna placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He tore his eyes away to face her and she smiled at him, albeit somewhat sadly.</p><p>‘Happy birthday, Dick,’ she said softly. </p><p>He just nodded his thanks and let her refill his glass. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>That night he dreamed of the stars and they flashed like circus lights. Music blared in his ears and he soared through the sky to thunderous applause. Reaching forward, he somersaulted through the air until everything seemed far away. He could see the sloping top of a circus tent and somewhere below him he could hear people shouting his name. </p><p>He flew further. Alone, but painfully at peace. </p><p>He wondered if the world knew when you needed to be found. If that’s why it sent someone to him. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>For as long as he’d known her, Rachel had filled him with ice-cold fear. It haunted his waking thoughts, made his stomach twist into knots and tortured him beneath closed eyelids. She had these bright eyes that betrayed her thoughts despite what her mouth said and a face that was near impossible to lie to. </p><p>She looked at him like he’d hung the moon and it made his mouth feel dry and his throat tight. </p><p>Even now, he could feel her gaze on his back. The steady <em>thump </em>of his fists hitting the punching bag provided little distraction from the cold dread of facing her adoring stare.</p><p>The training room was empty save for them. When he’d turned up, desperate to sweat out a long day’s worth of tension, she’d insisted that she’d continue to meditate despite his presence. Despite the loud, <em> thump, thump, thump </em>of his frustration permeating the air. He should’ve known that she was lying from the start. She’d never been a good liar. </p><p>He closed his eyes. </p><p>
  <em> Thump. </em>
</p><p>He heard her shift behind him.</p><p>
  <em> Thump.   </em>
</p><p>He could feel her unwavering admiration and the weight of it propelled his fists harder, faster. </p><p>
  <em> Thump. </em>
</p><p>He wondered how she’d look when he failed her.</p><p><em> Thump. </em> </p><p>Whether it would break her spirit or if her entire soul would break in two. </p><p><em> Thwack</em>.</p><p>His foot flew into the bag and it swung recklessly, creaking with the intensity of his kick. Panting hard and wiping the sweat from his forehead, he turned to look into the eyes that he was so afraid of disappointing. </p><p>Quickly, as if she was afraid of being reprimanded, her eyelids snapped closed and her spine lengthened. Still, she did nothing to hide the awed smile that stretched across her lips. </p><p>He could’ve sighed. <em> She doesn’t need this kind of training</em>, he rationed to himself, <em> she’s more powerful than anyone you’ve ever met even without it</em>. For the first time in a long time, embarrassment flared in his chest at the thought of being watched. She could destroy him with the blink of an eye and yet here she was, watching <em>him </em>train as if he was more proficient, more capable-</p><p>‘Would you like me to teach you?’ He cut himself off, his voice warm and inviting but light enough to laugh it off if she teased him and turned him down.</p><p>Her lips parted in shock and her eyes widened. And then she was on her feet, nodding eagerly as if she’d been waiting forever for him to ask. </p><p>With every instruction he gave his embarrassment melted away. Encouragement flowed from him as naturally as breathing and, as he watched her, warmth bloomed in his chest. The more comfortable she got, the better she got and Dick wondered what he did to deserve her trust or her ability to be so at ease by his side. </p><p>When she threw her first successful punch, hard enough to make the bag shift impressively, he felt her excitement as if it was his own. The praise that poured from his lips was as honest as the pride in his chest.</p><p>She beamed up at him brilliantly in response and her pale cheeks flushed rosy with joy. </p><p>He couldn’t remember the last time he'd felt so light. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>That evening, hope bubbled inside of him and spilled from his being like longing. </p><p>It wasn’t welcome.</p><p>It burned his throat and it tasted like ash.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Kory fell from the sky, literally. She said she was an alien but Dick thought she might be an angel. Being around her felt like a breath of fresh air after rain. She was cleansing and, if there was a relief from the headache that was his life, she was his aspirin. </p><p>He could hear her in the corridor now, her words bleeding into one another as she spoke. To anyone else, she might have sounded like the same reasonable, clear-headed Kory that could talk softly to the devil. But he could hear the annoyed inflection in her tone that made her words sound like blows. </p><p>He wondered who was on the other end of the call and why they didn’t know better than to fan the flames of her temper when she was irritated.</p><p>Despite not knowing the topic of their argument he found himself certain that the other party was ridiculously inept. Ever since he’d met her, Kory had never been wrong. </p><p>He probably shouldn’t be listening, he realised. She excused herself for a reason.</p><p>With renewed anticipation, he busied himself unpacking the brown bag in front of him. The rustling drowned out the sound of her voice and his mouth watered at the sight of the vanilla cupcakes he’d demanded she try. They could do it together, he’d offered. </p><p>By the time she returned he had a mouth full of delicious, sugary frosting. </p><p>‘Try one,’ he insisted, barely legible. </p><p>She walked over to him slowly, her expression the picture of disapproval. Still, a smirk pulled at the corner of her lips.</p><p>‘For breakfast?’</p><p>‘Don’t tell the others,’ he winked before reiterating, ‘they’re the best in the city.’</p><p>She raised her eyebrows and eyed the cupcake skeptically.</p><p>‘I think I’ll be the judge of that.’</p><p>He gestured for her to go ahead and savoured the way that she groaned in appreciation the second it touched her tongue. <em> I told you so, </em> he mouthed and unwrapped a second cupcake. </p><p>She just rolled her eyes and smiled, ‘what other secrets have you kept from me, Dick Grayson? Will I have to torture you to find out the best pizza place in the city?’</p><p>He laughed quietly. Overcome with the knowledge that he’d share anything with her if it made her smile like that. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>For a while, Dick felt whole. Then, he was falling again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The first flowers of spring were stained with blood. His eyes followed the trail from the warm yellow petals to the family of four lined up on the sidewalk, their throats sliced and gaping.</p><p>Somewhere behind him he could hear Kory soothing Rachel and in his mind’s eye he could see Gar’s ashen features, his whole body wilted like a puppet with its strings cut.</p><p><em>They shouldn’t be here, </em> his brain supplied, <em> they shouldn’t be anywhere near tortured families with throats that grinned bloody.</em></p><p>There was nothing he could’ve done and still, looking at the bodies tasted like failure and it lodged in his throat like damnation.</p><p>He closed the eyes of the youngest girl and warmth seeped into his fingertips like a cruel joke. He’d been minutes late, at most. </p><p>When they returned to the tower he relayed the mission details. His mouth formed words like neat, practised, fresh, deep and <em>fatal</em>. If there was one thing that Bruce taught him flawlessly<em>, </em> it was how to suppress his grief. </p><p>The others only looked at him perplexed. He wondered if they thought he should’ve waited for the kids to leave before he updated them.</p><p>To him, that kind of courtesy felt absurd. They were there. <em> They saw it. </em></p><p>He realised later that what he’d thought was confusion was actually concern, and that their concern wasn’t for the kids.</p><p>Even later, when he woke to the sound of Gar sobbing softly (a stark and wholly unwelcome contrast to the usual synths and computerized buzzing of a teenager up too late playing video games), he realised that it should’ve been. </p><p>Being around Gar made Dick’s hands shake and his chest tighten. He wondered how easy it would be to scar him. Whether he’d do it accidentally or if he’d even know if he did.  </p><p>He knew that Gar was older than Rachel but he seemed younger. <em> No, </em> he amended, <em> he seemed lonelier. </em>The thought gripped him like a cold, iron vice and it pushed him to knock on the bedroom door.</p><p>There was shuffling and then- ‘One second.’</p><p>When the door opened moments later Gar looked surprisingly put together. It made Dick’s stomach twist. </p><p>‘I wasn’t playing video games-’ he started to protest.</p><p>‘I know, Gar. I know-’ he swallowed, ‘can I come in?’</p><p>He ended up perched on the edge of the bed with Gar at his side, his body sagging against his shoulder like a boy tormented by too much, too young. Dick's mouth felt dry and he willed it to form the words he’d wished to hear from Bruce long ago but he couldn’t. He didn’t know what they were. He’d never heard them.</p><p>‘How do you do it?’ Gar croaked into the silence, ‘how do you feel <em>okay</em> again?’</p><p>He didn’t respond because advice tasted like poison on his lips. Instead, he wrapped an arm around him tightly and hoped that his touch didn’t muddy him. </p><p>‘I’m trying to grieve them,’ the boy choked into his shoulder after a moment, ‘they deserve that.’</p><p>Dick’s chest constricted like Gar’s soft arms were choking him. Somehow, it felt like a joke. How could the world be so cruel as to hand him a child so pure and ask him not to ruin him? He wondered how long it would take before his closeness shattered him and he saw the family as nothing more than another stain melted into the gravel.</p><p>Gar buried himself further into his chest and his grip tightened. Meaningless comfort fell from his lips into the boy’s hair and he tried to ignore the way the silence embraced his sobs like they were familiar. Every shuddering breath the teenager took felt like loneliness and it cut Dick like guilt. When Gar’s sobs became mournful gasps, Dick tried to feel them too. He let his heart tear open for the family like a badly stitched wound because the least he could do was be with him. </p><p>He wondered what he did to deserve Gar's trust or his belief that his arms were safe and his hands were clean. The hands on his back felt like gratitude and it hit Dick like shame. </p><p>Dick was inadequate, unequipped, <em> not good</em>. And yet, this world had damaged Gar enough to make him believe that he was. </p><p>Dick’s eyes felt wet.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>In the days that followed he thought about his parents. He’d thought about them his entire life but those few days made him wonder if he’d ever truly thought about them at all.  </p><p>He remembered them ethereal. He remembered them <em>performing</em>.</p><p>He could see them in his mind's eye. How they’d jump from the earth like gravity was a story. How the sky would embrace them like a friend. </p><p>When his eyes welled up and tears spilled onto his cheeks they didn’t feel weak. </p><p>They felt freeing. </p><p>He remembered how they’d meet in the air. It made him think of stars colliding. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Whenever Jason showed up Dick was certain it was only to make him bleed.</p><p>He couldn’t remember a time they’d sparred without it descending into mournful violence. Jason dealt desperate blows and Dick matched him with the ferocity that his expression pleaded for. The deadened sound of their strikes and their indistinguishable groans were all that broke the aching silence until Jason slumped, exhausted and Dick spat blood onto the training room floor. </p><p>Still, he couldn’t remember much before the last hour and he wasn’t sure whether that was to do with how his head was swimming or the worrisome satisfaction that had unfurled deep in his stomach. He couldn’t see Jason but he knew it was him that thrust a bottle of water into his hands before sitting down beside him. <em> Who else would it be? </em></p><p>He rinsed the blood from his mouth until all he could taste was self-loathing and restlessness. </p><p>‘<em>Fuck me, </em>’ he could hardly hear Jason over the pounding in his ears, ‘you’re getting slower, old man.’</p><p><em> You’re getting better, </em> he thought to himself, <em> or angrier... or both. </em>Instead, he settled for sticking up his middle finger in response.</p><p>The silence between them had always been stifling. Full of so many words that neither ever said. Dick could’ve spoken but he wondered, as he always did after they fought, if there was anything left to say.</p><p>To him, each swing felt like a confession and every blow landed like understanding. He wondered if there was even anything left to feel. </p><p>Beside him, he saw Jason close his eyes and he took a moment to take him in. It was always unusual to see him so peaceful. The anger he’d arrived with had all but dissipated from his features leaving dark bags beneath his eyes in its place. His limbs hung loose and his head reclined against-</p><p>‘I can <em> feel </em> you staring at me, dipshit.’</p><p>A breathy laugh escaped him and he looked away. He didn’t know whether it said more that Jason landed harsh, unforgiving punches or that Dick let him. </p><p>At Jason’s insistence, Dick had shown him to a spare room. He didn’t need (nor want) his own room in a <em> stupid tower filled with losers</em>.  </p><p>When more and more of Jason’s stuff turned up in that room, Dick didn’t say anything.</p><p>And when a sign reading <em> Jason’s room, keep out! </em>- in much more colourful language - appeared on the door one morning, neither of them mentioned it.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There was a couch in Wayne Manor that Dick swore was the comfiest thing he’d ever slept on. It was worn and purple and he wondered why Bruce even kept it (he was glad he did). (It didn’t escape Dick that <em> that </em> was probably why.) </p><p>It had been years and Dick still hadn’t found something more comfortable than that old and ugly piece of furniture. </p><p>Of course, it had only taken a couple of months of searching for him to realize that it probably wasn’t the couch that helped him sleep so soundly. </p><p>More, where it was… steps away from Bruce’s bed. </p><p>(Out loud, he’d swear it was the couch.)</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Dawn bought a new bed frame and it arrived while she was out one Saturday afternoon. Dick helped Hank maneuver it up the stairs and, for the first time since he’d known him, he found that they agreed on something: beds were for sleeping in, not looking nice. </p><p>After what felt like hours of trying to fit the awkwardly shaped headboard through the ridiculously small bedroom door he realised that the calm he felt in his chest was actually ease. He was content to gripe with Hank about ordering things online and thoughtless product design. More than that, he was happy to. </p><p>When Dawn returned to the tower later, delighted by the frame set up in her bedroom, they shared a knowing and somewhat mocking smile behind her back.</p><p>Dick felt some of the tension between them melt away. </p><p>Clearly, the new bed inspired Dawn because the next morning Dick woke to her suggesting some spring-cleaning. The idea made him snort (or perhaps it was Hank’s expression of reluctance beside her enthusiastic smile). He helped anyway. </p><p>He spent the next few days throwing out takeout menus, reorganising cupboards and polishing skirting boards. </p><p>He didn’t say anything when he found Rachel’s room empty on the third day. Nor when he heard the telltale sounds of video games and laughing from behind Gar’s door. He even kept quiet when he heard Hank and Donna’s disgruntled whispering in the corridor outside of the gym.</p><p>‘Done?’ Dawn asked when he returned with arms full of cleaning supplies. </p><p>He nodded and the face-splitting grin she gave him in return was worth a thousand spring-cleans. </p><p>‘Am I free now?’ he joked, holding out his hands for her to release his invisible shackles. </p><p>She just laughed and swiped at him playfully with a duster. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When Dick left Gotham he’d had nowhere and everywhere to go. </p><p>He’d never felt so lost. <em> He wouldn’t let them feel lost.</em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He woke to the sound of crashing one night in summer. His adrenaline spiked and he jumped to his feet so fast it was nauseating. All too aware of the lightness on his belt, he slipped along the brightly lit hallway armed with nothing but pyjama pants and bed hair. </p><p>It crossed his mind that perhaps he should’ve woken the others but that thought disappeared as quickly as it came when he reached the source of the sound. </p><p>He almost sighed. </p><p>Even exhausted Jason had to make an entrance. </p><p>The window in his bedroom was smashed and shards of glass formed a trail to his sleeping form sprawled across the bedsheets. The sight brought a sour taste to Dick’s mouth and he ignored the keep out sign to step forward and cover him with a blanket. Falling asleep fully clothed felt like sweating blood and straining nerves. </p><p>Dick thought that overexertion might run in the family. </p><p>He left a glass of water at his bedside along with some painkillers and he made a mental note to get the window fixed. Perhaps he should start leaving it ajar. It was unlikely that anyone other than Jason would be able to climb that high without setting off the alarms. Besides, the crashing woke him anyway-</p><p>Jason shifted and pulled the blanket up to his chin. </p><p>Dick paused in the doorway.</p><p><em>He looked younger in his sleep, </em> he mused. His face relaxed into something soft and his palms sat open at his sides. Dick wondered where he went behind closed eyelids and whether in his dreams he <em>was </em>younger. The thought made his stomach twist. </p><p>Despite his appearance and his temper, Jason was still a kid. A boy that climbed trees and smashed windows for a safe place to sleep. </p><p>‘Dick,’ Jason’s voice interrupted his thoughts and he froze. There was never an easy way to respond when a person spoke your name like a lifeline. A moment passed and if Dick didn’t know any better he might’ve thought he’d said it in his sleep. The strained silence between them told him otherwise-  </p><p><em> ‘Thank you,’ </em> Jason’s voice was a choked sob and the sincerity of it cut Dick like remorse.</p><p>There was no debt between them and he kicked himself for not making that clear. Dick was an idiot and Jason was too for believing that kindness was conditional. </p><p>He wondered if <em>that </em>ran in the family. Along with self-loathing and anger and <em>fear</em>. </p><p>Because Dick was an adult that couldn’t sleep without the hallway light on.</p><p>And Jason was a boy that gripped a blanket like a shield. </p><p>‘I make breakfast at ten,’ he stuttered into the silence. It was an offering that spoke a thousand words and he hoped from his very soul that Jason understood. <em> You’re welcome, Jason. Anytime. You’re welcome here. </em></p><p>Jason appeared the next morning, lighter than Dick had ever seen him. He ruffled Rachel’s hair and teased Hank until he was red-faced, swearing and insisting that Jason cheated at every video game they’d ever played.</p><p>Dick just smiled and whisked his eggs. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He heard Jason’s voice in his head when he went to sleep that night.</p><p>
  <em> Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.  </em>
</p><p>His dreams had never been so soft. </p><p> </p><p>He heard it again hours later. Only this time the voice was his own.</p><p>(He woke with a choked <em> thank you </em> on his lips.)</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Rose fought like she needed to survive. Her attacks were brutal and she ran rings around him as if <em>she </em>was the one that had trained for the circus.</p><p>He’d seen her break and put herself back together as if death was a friend. He knew he couldn’t hurt her. Somehow, he trusted that she wouldn’t hurt him either - at least not too badly.</p><p>Still, standing opposite her made Dick feel phantom pains that ached like bloody lips and broken bones. And training with her felt like taking red clay and mortar to a wall between them. Even now, as she crouched down ready to pounce, he could see the way her eyes misted over. She fought like she didn’t know she was fighting at all. </p><p>He swung at her, hard and he wasn’t surprised when he missed. He let his frustration fuel his second and third attempt to no avail. She was elusive and agile and Dick thought she might only train to mock him. </p><p>He couldn’t help but grunt and stumble when she landed two biting jabs to his ribs. It made him wonder why she even used weapons when she could just <em>annoy </em>her opponent to death.</p><p>They circled each other carefully like she was dangerous and he had a fighting chance of matching her. Then, she landed a dizzying blow to his temple and his mouth parted in a silent curse. He wondered again, as he always did when they trained, why he offered to do it. Rose fought like she was afraid. It made her unpredictable and vicious. She landed dirty hits until Dick felt fury in his belly and throbbing behind his eyes. </p><p>The thought that her fear, born from fighting murderers and mercenaries, was just as palpable in every injury she gifted him made his mouth feel dry.</p><p>Still, he let her dread fuel her punches because it made them fierce and deadly. Even if it made him suffer. </p><p>‘Where do you go?’ his voice was as soft as he could manage between his panting and loathsome frustration. </p><p>‘You don’t lose yourself in the fight, I can tell. You get lost in here,’ he tapped his temple and watched as recognition flitted across her features. A moment passed and then-</p><p>‘I had the biggest bedroom in the house,’ her voice was far away and Dick wondered if she even knew she was talking, ‘and the comfiest bed I’ve ever slept on. The sheets were soft and floral and I told Mom I hated them but I didn’t, not really. I had a soft purple rug and a thin grey carpet,’ her voice was barely a whisper, ‘the walls were baby blue.’</p><p>Before Dick had time to blink she lunged at him and her fist sent him careening to the side as if it was made of steel. </p><p>Clarity washed over him like a wave and suddenly, in every anguished blow she landed, he could taste homesickness and sorrow like it had always been there. </p><p>He stopped responding, remorseful understanding drowning out any previous inclination he’d had to fight back. </p><p>She brought him to his knees in seconds.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>That night his dreams were filled with colours. He saw red and green and orange and purple. They covered walls (and people) and they made his heart soar as high as the rooftops. </p><p>From there he could see the moon and, bathed in its light, a caped silhouette.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He wasn’t sure what made him buy them, he didn’t mean to buy them at all. One moment he was grocery shopping and the next he was in a hardware store five miles out of town.</p><p>From where he stood in the kitchen, he could count ten buckets of paint balanced precariously in the entryway to the tower. Not to mention there was <em>at least</em> double that in the trunk of his car. He was nothing if not thorough. </p><p>When he’d first moved in he’d thought the tower perfect. It was a place to work and train and <em>do good </em>from. Now - as he prepared vegetables for a soup from a recipe that Alfred had taught him a long time ago - he tried to pinpoint when it became so much more than that. </p><p>The steps of the recipe were simple and he followed them like a pathway home. The sight of the bright orange meal simmering on the hob soothed him. He lifted the lid and the smell overwhelmed him. </p><p>It felt as if someone had poured fondness down his throat until he couldn’t breathe anything but it. Tenderness encompassed his entire being and suddenly, he couldn’t wait to paint the walls with his newly-realised warmth. </p><p>When the soup was finally ready, he instructed Rachel to cut the bread and sent Donna to gather everyone. Gar bounded into the room moments later and behind him, Rose.</p><p>He heard them pause at the sight of the paint. </p><p>‘I thought we could redecorate,’ he offered, relishing in Gar’s immediate (and gleeful) approval. </p><p>He could hear the others arriving in the kitchen but he kept his eyes trained to Rose’s face. Her lips sealed into a straight line and her expression scrunched into something inscrutable. </p><p>He wondered if she noticed that he’d picked up almost every shade of blue he could find.</p><p>Before he could speak, or apologise for overstepping, her expression morphed into one of gratitude. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes clouded and-</p><p>‘I’ll set the table,’ she mumbled.</p><p>He watched her leave and a hopeful smile pulled at his lips.</p><p>(This time, it tasted sweet.)</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When Dick finally called Bruce, he answered on the first ring.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>People joined the team and people left it, some he never saw again and some stayed forever. One day in autumn, he found himself hoping that Kory was one of the forever ones. He realized, as he watched her measure cake ingredients, her hair messy and her tongue peeking out between her lips in fierce concentration, that he couldn’t imagine a home where she wasn’t. He couldn’t imagine an earth where she wasn’t. </p><p>Even if she was glaring at him so furiously that he was surprised she hadn’t turned him to ash. Granted, he was winding her up-</p><p>‘No, no, no, no-’ he took the milk from her hands, ‘dry ingredients first.’</p><p>Annoyance flared in her pupils and he backed away instinctively. She could destroy him with the blink of an eye and still, a smirk pulled at the corners of his lips.</p><p>‘I thought you wanted to learn from the best-’</p><p>‘Tell me, Dick,’ she interrupted him, trapping him against the counter with eyes that glowed green, ‘do you value your life at all?’</p><p>He swallowed. </p><p>There was flour in her hair and chocolate on her dress and he wondered if she’d ever looked so beautiful. Her closeness was as dizzying as always and his lips parted in anticipation.</p><p>Reaching out to brush her hair from her face, he savoured the way her eyes softened. <em> It might’ve been stupid to wind her up</em>, he conceded, <em> then again that wasn’t surprising</em>. He’d never been able to think straight around her. </p><p>By the time he caught her mischievous grin, it was too late. Before he could blink, he had a face full of flour.</p><p>He spluttered, indignant and she giggled, clutching the now-empty bowl in her hands with an expression the definition of pleased. </p><p>He raised his eyebrows, ‘that’s how it’s gonna be then, huh?’</p><p>Before she had time to defend herself he lunged for the bag of flour. </p><p>Soon, the kitchen was coated in a thin layer of white dust and their playful laughter filled the tower like warm beams of light.</p><p>They never finished baking but Dick was certain he’d never tasted anything so sweet.  </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The next morning, the sun bathed him in gold and a bird landed on his window sill. He waited a moment before reaching out to it but it just looked at him. He stayed like that for a while, until the sun had turned his whole room yellow. </p><p>Suddenly the bird took a step forward. His heart jumped and his breath caught as it fell from the ledge. He reached out-</p><p>And then, in the golden light, </p><p>it soared. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There were so many people squished onto one couch that Dick thought he was going to burst. He wasn’t entirely sure whether that was because of the lack of space or because of the lightness that bubbled up inside of him and threatened to make him vomit fondness.</p><p>He supposed that either way, it was because of the people that surrounded him. </p><p>When he was younger he’d thought he’d used up his share of good birthdays. He’d wondered if perhaps the world gave everyone a quota and he’d met his the year that his parents passed. Now, he knew that he was wrong. </p><p>He felt that same deep warmth he’d felt at a child as if it was tangible.</p><p>It felt like gold and it splayed from his heart into his affectionate smile and his softened voice. </p><p>What was even more dizzying was that he could sense it reciprocated. </p><p>He could hear the others talking, the TV buzzing noisily and Gar purring, curled up as a kitten on the too-big armchair. </p><p>His eyes slipped closed.</p><p>Kory had woken him that morning with a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the soft way she’d whispered <em> ‘happy birthday’</em>. Nor everything that followed when she disappeared beneath the bedsheets. </p><p>Hank and Dawn had surprised him at noon with some new vinyl and Rose gifted him a new record player, alongside a meek apology for breaking his old one. He’d insisted it wasn’t her fault but they both knew that it was. </p><p>Gar had decorated the entire tower. Dick couldn’t walk without bursting balloons and crushing streamers but the joy it brought to Gar’s face made him wonder why the tower didn’t look like this permanently. He made a note to return the gesture tenfold on his birthday.</p><p>Jason had turned up late but he’d delighted in punching Dick in the arm until it tingled from shoulder to fingertip. <em> A tradition, </em> he’d insisted and that made Dick’s heart feel soft. </p><p>Donna had brought him another bottle of whisky, as always, although this year they only had one glass each. There had to be enough to go around.  </p><p>Rachel had baked him a cake that was cloying and dry and Dick thought it might have been the best thing he’d ever tasted. </p><p>Love, he realised.</p><p>The lightness he was so overcome and so consumed by was love. </p><p>(He’d known it some time ago but naming it made it glow brighter.)</p><p>(It filled his chest and the space around him like an exploding sun.)</p><p>He wondered whether he could have realised earlier. Then, he could have loved them better and for longer because love and time were opposites and he’d never had enough of either. Perhaps if he’d been different-</p><p><em> No</em>, he cut himself off, <em> now wasn’t the time for that-  </em></p><p>
  <em> There never would be time for that. </em>
</p><p>He felt Rachel’s head rest against his shoulder and he leaned into it with a sigh. </p><p>For the first time in a long time, Dick felt bliss as if it was palpable, as if he could reach out and touch it. It crossed his mind that perhaps he could and he swayed, giddy with the softness of it. </p><p>There was so much emotion in the light and so much light in the people around him.</p><p>For them, he would do anything. </p><p>He took a breath and opened his eyes.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This doesn’t completely fit in with the TV show timeline but I like to imagine it’s set somewhere after season 1 but before Jason's death (and return).</p></blockquote></div></div>
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